


Gather Near to Us

by Lauralot



Series: Alexander Pierce should have died slower [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Play, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, Daddy Kink, Gen, Hand Feeding, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Non-Sexual Age Play, Past Sexual Abuse, Roman Catholicism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 05:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2801459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauralot/pseuds/Lauralot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The holiday season drags up memories Bucky never wanted to recover.</p><p>Luckily, the Avengers are around to help him make new ones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gather Near to Us

**Author's Note:**

> Translations should appear if you hover over the Latin text. For those reading on a mobile or otherwise unable to access the hover text, I'll also provide translations in the closing author's note.
> 
> Happy holidays to everyone reading! Thanks for sticking with this twisted little series.

  
**Here we are as in olden days  
** **Happy golden days of yore**  
**Faithful friends who are dear to us**  
**Gather near to us once more**  
— “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” Hugh Martin

  


Tasha says the best thing about store bought cookie dough is that they can eat it raw.

Bucky doesn’t understand why she would want to eat raw, cold sugar cookies when they only take seven minutes in the oven to be hot and perfect. Wanting to eat Pepper’s homemade chocolate chip cookie dough had made sense; he can remember standing in his mama’s kitchen almost a century ago, licking the spoon. But Pepper had said the raw eggs weren’t safe to eat and Sam had agreed, so now Tasha’s eating the sugar cookie dough. Maybe it’s a matter of principle.

The sugar cookies came already cut into circles, with images of Christmas trees and reindeer and snowmen somehow seamlessly placed in the dough. That’s why they have these cookies to begin with: Clint said the holiday shapes were his favorite.

It’s Christmas Eve. They aren’t actually baking the cookies yet; everybody’s having dinner together tonight and the cookies are for after that. But Pepper says that it’s easier to have desserts waiting on a tray in the refrigerator than it is to try and get them assembled and baked when all the other food is cooking.

“Don’t spoil your appetite, Tasha,” Sam says. He’s putting stuffing inside the turkey.

“We’re not eating for _hours_ ,” she answers. At least, that’s what Bucky thinks she says. Her mouth is full of cookie dough and the words aren’t very clear.

“Last one.” Sam moves over to the sink and starts washing his hands. “Otherwise we’ll run out before they’re even baked.”

For a second Tasha’s face tenses up like she’s going to argue, but then she just shrugs and swallows. “But Bucky hasn’t had any.”

“I don’t like them raw,” Bucky says. Pepper’s sliding the last sheet of cookies into the refrigerator and all the other stuff the grown-ups are putting together involves using knives, so Bucky steps back from the countertop and goes to get Bucky Bear from the table, where he and Red Panda have been watching the preparations.

“You still need something.” Tasha’s eyes have the sort of sparkly determination that usually shows up when she decides it’s time for top secret missions or for surprise pillow fights.

“There are some cookies left over from the company party.” Pepper moves from the refrigerator to all the bags of chips and boxes of crackers stacked up by the sink. She holds a Ziploc bag. “You can have one of these if you’d like, Bucky.”

“He needs four,” Tasha says.

Both Pepper and Bucky stare at her. “Four?”

“Bruce says Bucky’s metabolism is four times faster than other people’s.” Tasha’s draping Red Panda over her shoulder. “So one cookie isn’t even like a whole cookie for him. It’s not fair.”

Sam and Pepper give each other some sort of look, but Pepper just holds the bag out and says, “You can have four of them, Bucky.”

They’re sugar cookies with icing and marshmallows and they’re decorated to look like melting snowmen. “Thank you,” Bucky says, and then Tasha takes his free hand and starts to drag him away.

The last time he had cookies at Christmas, they were chocolate chip.

Really, it was just one cookie. Bucky isn’t sure what year that was, only that there was snow outside and big tree in the corner of the dining room. There had been a plate of cookies on the table and his last daddy had taken it to the microwave after he guided Bucky to sit down.

He remembers staring at the tree, transfixed, hand absently stroking the stuffed bunny’s ears. The ornaments were glass and crystal, some tinged with color and others clear. All of them sparkled with the lights wound around the tree, like diamonds. He’d just come back from a mission on a yacht and there had been a woman wearing a lot of diamonds there. When the asset shot her it sprayed blood everywhere and Daddy had to give him a very long bath to clean all of it off.

His hair was still damp.

Daddy had returned with the plate and taken the seat beside him. “You’ve been such a very good boy today,” he’d said, resting a hand on Bucky’s knee. “I have a present for you, sweetheart.”

Bucky hadn’t needed to be told to open his mouth.

Daddy broke a cookie into little pieces and fed it to him one bite at a time, making him lick away every crumb before he got another piece. The chocolate chips were half-melted and when they were done, he’d had chocolate all over his mouth.

“You’re a mess, silly boy,” Daddy had said, and kissed it away.

“How does it taste?” Tasha asks.

Bucky blinks. They’re in the playroom. He’d been too busy remembering to notice where they were walking. He’s taken a few nibbles from one of the cookies; the other three rest, unbitten, in his opposite hand.

“It’s good,” he says, because it is. But it’s also a _lot_ , all sugar and icing and very rich. “I dunno if I can eat all of them.” His body digests fast, but his stomach still isn’t all that used to solid things.

“I’ll eat the ones you can’t,” Tasha offers.

Bucky smiles around the cookie. Tasha’s a really good friend.

There’s a string of Christmas lights around the door of the playroom. All of the tower’s most visited rooms have lights around the doors; Bucky and Tasha put them up with help from Dum-E and U and Butterfingers, right after Thanksgiving. The robots have been wearing Santa hats all month. JARVIS doesn’t have one, but JARVIS says all of the holiday decorations serve as his Christmas attire.

“Are you excited for tomorrow?” Tasha asks.

Bucky shrugs. Everybody’s exchanging presents in the morning and he’s not sure if his are any good. He doesn’t really have any money of his own and asking Steve to buy things for everyone felt like cheating, so the only gift he actually bought was a stuffed toy black widow spider for Tasha. Everybody else is getting things that Bucky made. He couldn’t figure out how to make a spider. There were too many legs and not a lot of sewing patterns.

“Are you gonna stay up and try to see Santa?”

This time he shakes his head. His doctors don’t like it when Bucky messes up his sleeping schedule, and he’s already messing it up by going to a Midnight Mass with Daddy, like they used to in Brooklyn. “You’re not supposed to try and catch Santa.” Or sneak around looking for presents he might have left early. Growing up, there had been a pair of sisters in Bucky’s apartment building who found a doll in their parents’ closet a week before Christmas, and they’d argued a lot about who it was for. But on Christmas, neither of them got the doll. Santa took it away and instead they got coal. That was what peeking got you.

“It’s not trying to catch him,” Tasha says. Bucky hands her the three cookies and she crunches into one. “It’s just looking.”

“I’m not supposed to stay up after we get back from church.” He gets the feeling that Daddy isn’t all that happy about Santa without adding misbehaving by ignoring bedtime to that.

He isn’t sure why Daddy doesn’t like Santa. Back when they were growing up, Bucky can’t remember Steve having any problem with him. But he hadn’t looked happy the day Clint asked if Tasha and Bucky were going to write to Santa for Christmas.

“Was Santa around in Brooklyn, Bucky?”

Daddy had laughed at that. He hadn’t looked unhappy yet. “Saint Nick’s been around since the third century, Clint. We’re not that old.”

“I wasn’t sure if Santa could get around in the Depression,” Clint had said. “I heard things were bad for him and the elves too.”

“They were,” Daddy said. He was running his hand through Bucky’s hair. He had been reading _How The Grinch Stole Christmas!_ aloud and now Bucky was reading it in his head, mouthing the words and tracing the lines of text. “But usually he could bring at least one present, even if it wasn’t very big.”

“I know about Santa.” Bucky had looked up from the Grinch tying antlers to Max the dog’s head. “He brings me new weapons if I’m good on missions.”

Both the grown-ups had gone quiet and frowning and he could tell that was the wrong thing to say.

“You don’t have missions anymore, Bucky,” Daddy said finally.

“I know.”

Daddy had just sighed and started reading again. He hasn’t read any Christmas stories out loud since, though he promised to read _The Night Before Christmas_ before Mass tonight.

 **MASTER BARNES, MISS ROMANOFF,** JARVIS says. **HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS CROWN PRINCE THOR OF ASGARD AND DR. FOSTER HAVE ARRIVED.**

Bucky almost asks “You can say first names?” because he’s never heard JARVIS do that before, but he doesn’t get the chance because Tasha grabs his arm and starts running toward the elevators.

“Come on come on come on,” she probably says. Tasha has all three cookies in her mouth now so it’s hard to be sure. Bucky decides to follow her lead and shoves the rest of the cookie into his mouth before they reach their destination.

Thor is as tall and as blond as Bucky remembers. His hair is in a ponytail and is a little longer than the last time he was here, and he’s wearing Earth—Midgardian, Thor would call it—clothing. With him is Dr. Foster, whom Bucky has seen on TV a few times and who is much shorter than Thor. Beside her is another woman, a little taller, with dark curly hair and glasses.

Bucky is still and quiet because Bucky’s usual response to strangers is to pretend he’s not there, but Tasha’s nudging him forward and Thor’s smiling.

“Dear one!” he says, wrapping his arms around Bucky and drawing him close. There isn’t that much of a difference in height between them, but Thor seems impossibly tall and broad anyway. “It is wonderful to see you again!”

“Hi,” Bucky mutters. He’s clinging, maybe a little too tight, but Thor’s hugs are as warm as his smile and it’s hard to keep from hanging onto him. “How’s Asgard?”

“Asgard is fine.” Thor pulls one hand free from the embrace and then he sweeps Bucky off his feet, causing a yelp of surprise that becomes a laugh as Thor spins him around. By the time he stops, the room is spinning.

“So this is the guy who got all frozen and mindwiped into becoming a really cut assassin _and_ a preschooler?” the woman with the glasses asks.

“Darcy!” Dr. Foster says.

“ _What_?” Darcy’s staring at him but it isn’t a bad stare. It doesn’t make him feel opened up like the doctors and agents in HYDRA used to. “I said he was cut! I mean, look at him. You’ve gotta admit he’s cute in a not really jailbait but still all kinds of going to hell way, right?”

“Darcy!”

“Jane, Lady Darcy.” Thor shifts so that Bucky is standing on the floor again. “This is my good friend Bucky Barnes and my comrade in battle, Lady Natasha.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jane says, shaking their hands.

“Ooh, I have got to get a picture of you,” Darcy tells Tasha, pulling out her phone. “You have no idea how cool the Black Widow is. You’ve been the most popular girls’ Halloween costume on campus ever since all that alien stuff in New York, and most of them do the whole suit with their legs and midriff and everything squeezed into spandex, even. Smile!”

Bucky thinks the person smiling for the camera is definitely Natasha, but it’s Tasha who turns back to Thor. “Bucky wants to hear about when you fought elves,” she says.

At the beginning of December Tony had brought an elf to the tower. It was small and dressed in red and looked like a toy, but it came with a book that said the elf was there to tell Santa everything they did. “My job’s an assignment from Santa himself,” Tony had read to them. “I am his helper, a friendly scout elf.”

Later in the book, he’d read, “There's only one rule that you have to follow, so I will come back and be here tomorrow: Please do not touch me. My magic might go, and Santa won't hear all I've seen or I know.”

Bucky and Tasha had looked at each other then. They didn’t need to talk. They just reached out and put their hands on the elf. Then, while Tony had stared at them, they went to take it to Clint for safe-keeping. Now that Thor is here, he can make sure the elf is completely defeated. Thor has elf experience.

“They were dark elves,” Thor begins, “and they were first vanquished by my grandfather, Bor, in—”

“Hold up.” Darcy’s sliding the phone back into her purse. “Before we get into the history lesson—Mythology lesson? Learning thing. Anyhow, do you guys know if anyone here’s allergic to peanuts? Because Ian made these cookies for me to give out as gifts and kinda neglected to mention that they had peanut butter until about twenty minutes ago, and I’d like to not poison any Avengers this Christmas.”

“You needed your intern to make no-bake cookies for you?” Jane asked.

“Whatever. You’ve burned Pop-Tarts, you can’t talk.”

“Is your intern here?” Bucky asks, feeling his tummy flutter. He has an extra gift that he can give to Darcy because it was for Happy and Happy isn’t coming tonight because he’s very allergic to Christmas trees. But if there’s another person he didn’t know about, he won’t have enough presents.

“No, he’s still across the pond. He just texted me.” Her phone chimes and Darcy takes it out of her purse a second time. “And there he is again. The point is, I won’t kill anybody, right? Kinda of a bad first impression.”

Nobody’s allergic to peanuts, according to Tasha. They all go to a sitting room and Thor tells them about King Bor and the dark elves and the aether. Then Jane talks about convergences and Einstein-Rosen bridges. Darcy starts a story about SHIELD and her iPod, but then it’s time for dinner.

They have turkey and eggnog and cranberry sauce and apple cider. There’s mashed potatoes and hot chocolate and cookies and fudge and greens and rolls and a bunch of things. There almost isn’t room for everybody’s plates because there are so many dishes on the table.

Bucky sits with Thor on one side of him and Steve on the other, and Tasha across the table. Thor eats even more than Steve. He seems to like everything, even the fruitcake. Tasha wrinkles her nose at that but Bucky tries a piece. It’s really dense and rich and he can’t finish it, but it isn’t bad. Even if Tasha is making “screw loose” motions at him.

When everybody stops eating, it isn’t because they’ve run out of food. There’s still about a week’s worth of dishes left on the table and that isn’t even counting the ham Pepper’s making for tomorrow. It’s just that everybody, even Thor, is too full to take another bite.

“You haven’t seen the tree yet,” Pepper says to Thor, Jane, and Darcy, and so the whole group goes to take a look at it.

Bucky’s seen the Christmas tree a lot since they got it. He couldn’t help to go pick it out, but he could help decorate. And since the tree’s been put up, he’s gone to put presents under it and sometimes just to look. It’s a very big tree. Bucky thinks it’s taller than some people’s houses and the star on top scrapes against the ceiling. The tree itself is real but the branches are dusted with fake snow, then covered in ornaments and garlands and tinsel. The lights are red and gold.

Thor spends a long time examining the tree and complimenting the craftsmanship of the ornaments. He starts to tell Bucky and Tasha about Yggdrasil, which he calls the most important tree of all, when they hear sleigh bells.

Bruce gasps and puts his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, steering him to face the door. “Look!”

Santa Claus steps inside.

He looks exactly like he does in all the books and television specials: red coat, white beard, glasses, and the red stocking cap. He even has a big sack slung over his shoulder.

Behind Bucky, he hears Thor’s voice. “I have not met this—”

Jane makes a shushing sound.

Santa lets the door slide closed behind him. “ _HO HO_ —” And then he sneezes, quickly pulling his sleeve in front of his nose and mouth. He clears his throat. “ _HO_!”

“Santa!” Tony says. “Are your reindeer on the roof?”

Santa nods. “You have a fire going, so JARVIS was kind enough to let me through the service entrance.” His voice is loud and jolly and has a faint New York accent.

 **ANY TIME, MR. CLAUS,** says JARVIS. **I’M A BIG FAN OF YOUR ALTRUISM EFFORTS.**

Santa laughs. Then sneezes again. Then keeps laughing. “I hear there are two very special young people here,” he says, placing the sack on the nearest couch. “Ah! You must be Bucky.”

Bucky nods.

Beckoning, Santa takes a seat on the couch. “Would you like to come on over? I’m sure there’s something here with your name on it.” He places his hand on the sack, shaking it a little. Bucky can see boxes wrapped up inside.

Without moving, Bucky glances at Daddy, who is smiling and nodding. “Go on, Buck. You can sit on his lap if you want to, it’s okay.”

Bucky bites his lip. He doesn’t understand sitting on Santa’s lap. It’s in all the books and shows but he can’t remember if he ever did it in Brooklyn. He definitely didn’t in HYDRA. He remembers sitting near the fireplace on his last daddy’s lap, but he doesn’t remember ever sitting on Santa.

Maybe it’s a New York tradition. Bucky shuffles forward and sits very still.

Santa puts one hand on Bucky’s shoulder to steady him. He doesn’t ruffle Bucky’s hair, which is nice. “ _Ho ho ho_! Are you having a merry Christmas Eve?”

The answer is “yes” but Bucky’s voice doesn’t always work around strangers. He nods.

“Wonderful!” Santa reaches into the bag, turning his head away as he sneezes a third time. “Now, Bucky, if I give you your present tonight, will you promise not to open it until Christmas morning?”

He draws a present wrapped in shiny silver paper from the sack. It’s flat and thin. Bucky stares at it, nodding.

Across the room, Darcy mutters “This is so going on Facebook” as her phone flashes.

“Very good!” Santa claps his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, sliding the present into Bucky’s own hands. “You have a merry Christmas, Bucky.”

“Th—thank you,” Bucky manages as he gets up. He’s taking the present over to the tree as Santa calls over Tasha.

She sits down, arms crossed. Tasha doesn’t look impressed, but she never looks impressed except for that one time at the toy store. “You’re here early,” Tasha says.

“It’s a very busy night,” Santa answers. “I wanted to be sure I got the chance to speak with you two, so I got a head start.”

Tasha mulls that over for a second before she nods and uncrosses her arms.

Bucky’s straightening up from putting the present down with the others as Daddy strokes his hair. “You okay?” Daddy asks.

“Uh-huh.”

Three _ho ho hos_ and two more sneezes later and Santa stands up, slinging the bag over his shoulder again. “It was lovely to see you!” he says. “I’ll tell the reindeer you said hello. Now I’ve got to get back to the North Pole to check in with the elves one last time.”

“The skies will be clear across the country,” says Rhodey. “I made sure of that.”

Santa salutes him. “Thank you, Colonel. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

Then he’s back out the door. The sound of sleigh bells returns as Santa walks away. Bucky isn’t sure where it comes from.

“Wasn’t that exciting?” Pepper asks.

“He sneezed a lot,” Tasha says. She didn’t put her present under the tree; she handed it to Clint to put with the rest.

“Reindeer flu,” Tony says. He sounds like he knows these things.

There’s a pause before Thor asks, “Who was that jovial fellow?”

The adults start explaining about Santa Claus. It’s mostly Sam and Bruce and Jane doing the talking, but occasionally Darcy and Tony add something in. Daddy goes to get _The Night Before Christmas_ and Bucky, Tasha, and Thor gather around him on the couch to listen. Daddy does a really good Santa voice.

Thor says that reindeer antlers are like those on bilgesnipe and nobody knows what those are, so he starts telling stories about Asgard.

Later, when everyone’s heading back to their own rooms, Bucky puts on a suit.

He has a lot of suits now, to be worn when the trial starts. They had to send his measurements out because Bucky hasn’t left the tower since the trip to FAO Schwarz. Not until tonight.

They’ll be leaving in the back of a maintenance van. Steve doubts that any paparazzi or reporters will be hanging around the tower on Christmas Eve, but they’d both agreed better safe than sorry.

“Are you sure about this?” Bucky asks once they step into the elevator.

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Absolutely. As long as you want to. Do you still want to?”

It’s not as though Bucky asked about Mass out of any sort of religious conviction. He’s had enough of a struggle remembering who he is, _what_ he is, how not to be a weapon and how to do the things that should come naturally to people. He doesn’t even want to try untangling the concept of faith after all he’s been through, not for a long, long time. It’s just that he can actually recall this.

He can see so clearly in his mind being shaken awake by his mama to get up for church. He can remember his sisters complaining about the cold, can picture looking across the aisle and seeing Steve kneeling in the next row. It’s familiar, comforting. And unlike most of his happy memories, the Mass still exists. It hasn’t died off while he was on ice.

“I want to,” Bucky says.

Steve doesn’t speak, just nods and squeezes Bucky’s hand.

Bucky isn’t sure who’s driving the van: it’s a real maintenance vehicle and there’s a partition between the driver’s seat and the back. Whoever it is, they’re playing Christmas music. Bucky rests his head against the wall, humming along to “Silver Bells.” It wasn’t a song that was around in his youth, but now it’s challenging “Carol of the Bells” for his favorite piece of holiday music. It makes him think of snow in Brooklyn and pleasant things.

It’s quiet in the church. There’s a group toward the front praying the rosary but Bucky and Steve sit at the back. They reviewed all the readings and prayers for tonight before deciding to come here, to make sure nothing would bring out the Winter Soldier. There aren’t any trigger phrases, not in command form.

Bucky, as they’d discovered during the review, is the better of the two at speaking Latin now. When they were kids, Bucky had only known the responses and key phrases. He understood _et cum spiritu tuo_ and knew to kneel when the _Credo_ reached _et incarnatus est de Spiritu Sancto_ and all of that, but Steve was the one with the most comprehension of the readings. Now Bucky’s fully fluent. He assumes the religious vocabulary is a holdover from his childhood; HYDRA had wanted his service, not his worship.

Not that he wouldn’t have given both if they had asked.

The Mass begins right on the stroke of midnight. Bucky tenses at the entrance procession; they’re swinging a thurible of incense and he casts a nervous glance at Steve before remembering Steve doesn’t have asthma to be triggered anymore.

Steve’s hand finds Bucky’s and he intertwines their fingers.

They remain that way until the congregation begins heading toward the altar rail for the communion. Bucky gives another glance, this time toward the procession. “Can I—”

“If you want to,” Steve whispers.

“I haven’t been to confession in seventy years,” Bucky mutters, almost to himself. He isn’t sure he cares about sin, but he’s racked up so much of it over the decades.

Steve squeezes his hand then, firmly. “You have nothing to confess, Bucky. There’s nothing in your life God would hold against you. Remember what I said on Thanksgiving?”

 _You can’t make reparation for someone else’s sins_ , he’d said. Bucky nods.

Steve squeezes tighter. “I meant it. You can go if you want.”

Bucky carefully pulls his hand free and starts toward the altar.

It isn’t sin he’s thinking of as he makes his way toward the front of the church. It’s Alexander Pierce’s damn dining room table. In about ten seconds he’s going to kneel down and open his mouth to taste the body of Christ. He can remember his first communion from so long ago, how excited he was. And if that memory is tainted by Pierce’s sick games, then Bucky’s going to find a way to bring the bastard back to life and kill him all over again. Slower, this time.

He kneels and the altar boy slips the paten under his chin. Bucky closes his eyes as the priest stands before him, parting his lips, tilting his head slightly back.

Above him, there are words. “ _Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi custodiat animam tuam in vitam aeternam. Amen_.”

Bucky feels the press of the Host against his tongue. That’s all he feels. In that instant, there are no memories, no traumas. There’s nothing, and he’d never thought nothing could be so comforting.

Steve smiles at him when he sits down again, and Bucky smiles back.

*

He opens his eyes to find Tasha sitting on his bed, shaking his shoulder.

“Wake up wake up wake up,” she’s chanting, rocking back and forth a little.

Bucky frowns, drawing away from the unexpected touch. For a second, he’s back in his old bedroom with the dinosaur pajamas and the purple elephant. He can remember his last daddy waking him up with a kiss on the forehead, can hear his words: _Merry Christmas, my little snowflake. Daddy loves you so much._ “What time is it?”

“Seven. _C’mooooon._ We’re gonna open presents and then everyone’s having French toast.” She’s in a blue nightgown with little bird silhouettes dotting the fabric. Everybody’s going to open presents in their pajamas; Tony said it was a tradition. “ _And_ Sam’s gonna do that thing where he makes the toast taste like bananas. C’mon.”

Still frowning, Bucky sits up. “My alarm was supposed to go off at seven.”

“I turned it off so I could wake you up,” Tasha says matter-of-factly. “I thought you were gonna wear the Captain America pajamas.”

“I will.” They’re his favorite pajamas: soft and warm and made to look like his daddy’s uniform. They even have a hood made to look like the helmet, with a big A on the forehead.

“You didn’t sleep in them?”

Bucky doesn’t answer, picking up Bucky Bear and slipping into the bathroom to brush his teeth and hair. Of course he didn’t.

There are very many presents under the tree. There had already been a lot last night, but it looks like some people waited until this morning to place their gifts there. There are packages of all shapes and sizes and some of the wrapping papers sparkle under the lights of the tree. The air smells like pine and citrus. Pepper gave everybody stockings, and in each of the stockings, among things like new socks and lotion, is a tangerine.

Most of the adults are in either robes or slinky, smooth pajamas. Clint has a t-shirt and pajama pants covered in little bull’s-eyes. He also has a purple Santa hat.

Tony is the last one to arrive. Bruce says Tony was up too late last night doing science things and Rhodey has to go get him. Once he comes in with a very large cup of coffee, Sam starts handing out the presents by name.

Bucky has eleven. One from every Avenger—Thor’s also has Jane’s name on it—one from Darcy, one from Pepper, one from Rhodey, and one from Santa. He’s never had eleven presents at the same time before. It makes his eyes sting a little to look at them, but not in a sad way.

“We’ll go around in a circle and open one present at a time,” Pepper says. “Youngest to oldest. Bucky, that puts you first.”

The first present Bucky opens is from Tasha. The wrapping paper is striped like a candy cane and inside the box is a wooden bird with very thin wings spread out on either side. It’s cedar; he can tell from the smell.

“It’s a bird of happiness,” Tasha explains. “It’s Russian. You hang ‘em up and they keep everybody happy. It’s like a charm.”

She opens Bucky’s gift next. When she sees the black widow, she squeals and hugs tight onto Bucky. She sets the spider on the floor beside Bucky Bear, who isn’t afraid of spiders because he isn’t afraid of anything.

On the second round, he opens Darcy’s gift. It’s a little bag of chocolate and peanut butter cookies, just like she said. Bucky gave her a jar of homemade hot chocolate mix, with cocoa and marshmallows and cut up peppermints sticks. Tied around the jar are the instructions for how to mix it up. Darcy sets the jar on the ground and pulls out her phone.

“Facebook?” Jane asks.

“Instagram,” Darcy says.

The next present Bucky unwraps is Clint’s. The wrapping paper is covered in birds and there’s a lot of tape holding it in place. Inside is a toy bow and arrow set, with the arrows made of soft foam that Clint promises can’t hurt anybody, even bears. Clint’s present to Tasha is a thick book of Russian poetry which makes her really excited.

Bucky gave Clint a coffee mug sleeve that had once been a really nice gray wool sock. It’s embellished with a few purple and white buttons. It goes with the spill-proof travel mug that Daddy got Clint—Clint spills coffee a lot—but Clint hasn’t opened that yet, so he looks a little confused. His smile and thank you feel real, though.

Pepper’s presents are in gold paper with white ribbons, and the lids are wrapped separately from the boxes. Inside Bucky’s is a navy blue vest made of a thin, stretchy but rubbery fabric.

“It’s a pressure vest,” she says. “It feels like your therapy blanket, but it’s smaller and you can wear it under your clothes.”

Bucky thinks she means for him to wear it under the suits in court. That would probably be better than taking his blanket in. “Thank you.”

He’d made Pepper business card holders out of felt that he carefully blanket-stitched together. Clint had supervised the making of all the presents that needed sewing, because Bucky wasn’t supposed to use sharp things like needles on his own. For the coffee mug sleeve for Clint, Bucky had just used fabric glue to keep from spoiling the surprise.

“There’s so many,” Pepper says, smiling.

“I tried to match them with your purses.” Bucky shrugs. “You have a lot of purses.”

He isn’t sure what about that sentence makes her want to hug him, but she does.

Sam’s present comes in a blue bag with red and white snowflakes all over. There are layers and layers of sparkly tissue paper and under them all is the book _Sleeping Beauty_. Bucky blinks at the cover. He has a copy of _Sleeping Beauty_ in his book of fairytales from Tasha. Sam’s read it to Bucky before. Did he forget?

“I know you already have one of these,” Sam says, settling down next to him. “But this one’s special, all right? Open it up.”

Bucky does, right to the first page of the story. He’s examining the picture when he hears Daddy’s voice. Not beside him—it’s coming out of the book.

“Once upon a time,” his daddy’s voice says, “there was a king and queen who wanted to have a child very much.”

Mouth open, Bucky stares.

“It’s a recording,” Sam says. “This way, even if Steve’s on a mission, he can still read to you.”

Bucky hugs as tight as he can without hurting Sam’s ribs. When he pulls away, he notices that Daddy’s wiping at his eyes.

His present for Sam is a pair of little bird-shaped hand warmers made of fabric and rice. Sam ruffles Bucky’s hair and says they’re perfect to take running in the winter.

When Bucky opens the gift from Thor and Jane, he isn’t sure what to make of it. It looks like a black sphere on a base, with little holes pricked through the plastic.

“Here,” Jane says, navigating around the presents to sit beside him. “I’ll show you how it works. JARVIS, could you turn down the lights, please?”

The room goes dark except for the fireplace. Bucky likes this fireplace. His last daddy’s had a rug in front of it and they played a lot of games there that weren’t much fun, but this one has no rugs and no games. All the grown-ups say it’s not safe to play around fire.

Jane flips a switch on the base and red light shines through holes in the sphere, making stars on the walls. “They’re constellations,” she explains. “We had it made special.”

“They are the stars of Asgard,” Thor says, settling down on Bucky’s other side. “I can teach you their names in the evening, if you like.”

“Are the stars in Asgard red?” Tasha asks, staring up at the ceiling.

“No,” Jane says, “but red means it can also be a nightlight. It’s the color wavelength that disrupts sleep the least.”

They switch off the constellation maker and the lights come back up.

Bucky gives Jane another jar, this one full of a sugar scrub he made with vanilla and jasmine. For Thor, he took a picture of Jane from the Internet and printed it on special photograph paper. Then he’d made a picture frame from popsicle sticks carefully covered in washi tape, and he’d glued the photo onto them. He wasn’t sure if they have pictures in Asgard.

They both hug him at the same time. Jane’s hugs are almost as warm and tight as Thor’s.

Bruce’s presents are wrapped in newspaper, and the gifts for Bucky and Tasha are wrapped in the Sunday funnies. Bucky gets another book of fairytales. He flips through it and finds that they’re all brand new; Bucky hasn’t even heard of some of them before.

He gives Bruce a set of what are called bath bombs, because once they get wet they fizz up and spread through the water. This is because they have baking soda in them, which Bruce taught Bucky could cause chemical reactions. They also have lavender because lavender is supposed to be comforting and Bruce is always trying not to be stressed.

Inside the box from Rhodey is a dark, fuzzy teddy bear in a shiny little War Machine costume. He’s a bit bigger than Bucky Bear and the gun on his shoulder shoots out little foam balls, which makes Bucky squeal.

The present he gives to Rhodey is like Darcy’s, except it’s a cookie mix in the jar instead of hot chocolate. The mix has chocolate chips and M&Ms and coconut and cashews, and Rhodey says it sounds like “the best damn cookie” he’s ever heard of.

Tony’s present comes in a box big enough to hold a refrigerator. The wrapping paper has Iron Man all over it. Each of the Iron Men is wearing a Santa hat.

The box is full of bears.

There’s a red bear in a black suit with an hourglass belt buckle and little beaded widow bites around her wrists. Beside the Widow Bear is a yellow bear in purple and black with a bow and quiver strapped to his back. There’s a green bear with purple pants, a black bear with wings and goggles, and another yellow bear with a cape and mail and a hammer. There’s a brown bear in Iron Man armor, but with little metal bear ears added to the helmet. The bear’s chest lights up when Bucky taps it.

Bucky’s favorite bear is in the middle. He’s yellow with a blue suit. He wears a hood with an A on the forehead and little wings next to each ear. He’s holding a shield.

“They’re Bearvengers,” Tony says. “Like ‘em?”

Bucky’s too happy to say thank you. He hugs onto Tony and doesn’t let go for a very long time.

He sewed a pillow for Tony that’s full of lavender and chamomile and other things that are supposed to help with sleeping. Tony says he’ll probably use it as soon as his latest caffeine rush wears off.

Bucky was going to save Daddy’s present for last because it’s sure to be the most special, but Daddy says he should open Santa’s at the end. Daddy’s gift is carefully wrapped in red paper that has little marks on the edges where there used to be tape. It’s re-used from either last Christmas or Daddy’s birthday, Bucky thinks. Everybody used to reuse their wrapping paper in the thirties.

There are three black picture frames inside, all the same size. The first is of Bucky’s father, his real, first father. Bucky thinks it must have been taken before he was born, maybe even before his parents were married, because he can’t remember his father looking so young. The second picture Bucky recognizes. It used to hang in his family’s living room when he was growing up. It’s his mama, sitting down and holding a baby. The baby is Bucky.

The last picture is Bucky and his sisters, sitting in a row on the steps of someone’s porch. He thinks it must have been taken on a visit to Shelbyville because it doesn’t look like Brooklyn. They’re seated from oldest to youngest.

“Are those your sisters?” Tasha asks.

Bucky nods, resting his hand on the glass of the picture frame. The left hand, so it won’t leave any smudges. His eyes are hot again. “That’s Rebecca,” he says, pointing to the girl closest to him. He must be about ten in the picture, which would make Rebecca eight, but she’s taller than him. She was always taller until Bucky turned thirteen and grew about a foot overnight. “And that’s Virginia.” She was about six, blonde, and missing her front teeth. He taps the girl on the end, who can’t be any older than three. “That’s Josephine.” Her hair was blonde in the picture too, but it got darker when she got older.

“She smiles just like you,” Tasha says.

Bucky sniffs but doesn’t actually cry, hugging tight onto Daddy.

Daddy cries when he opens Bucky’s present, though.

It’s what Bucky calls a memory book: a really nice notebook that he’s filled with detailed recollections of the past. Nothing about HYDRA or the war. Just Brooklyn and the Dodgers and going to school together and other nice things he can actually remember. He only wrote in it when he was himself and his handwriting was pretty and neat. Some pages have pictures of the places he’s remembered pasted onto them. Daddy’s hands are shaking, but Bucky thinks it’s in a good way.

Then all that’s left is the present from Santa. Tasha already opened hers: it was also in a flat package and it was season tickets to the New York City Ballet, which made her really happy.

Bucky carefully peels back the gift wrap. Inside are two thin sheets of plastic, sandwiching a few pieces of paper. To keep the papers from bending, Bucky thinks. The plastic is see-through and he can read the first page through it.

“Rebecca Barnes Cleary” is what it says right at the top. Underneath that is an address and a phone number. There’s a little space, and then another name: James Cleary. Another address and another phone number. Susan Cleary Wilson. Christopher Wilson. Stephanie Wilson Goldman. Robert Wilson. And more names, all accompanied by addresses and phone numbers. The second page is the same, starting with Josephine Barnes Roth.

“It’s your family, Buck,” Daddy says softly. “Your sisters and nieces and nephews. And your great-nieces and nephews. And your great-great—after the press conference, when we let the world know you were still alive, they reached out. We—Santa got all their information together if you want to see them.”

Bucky stares at the pages, silent.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Bucky.” Daddy puts a hand on his back, gently rubbing. “But if you _want_ , you can write to them. Once all the litigations are over, we can take you to see them, or some of them have said they can come here, or—”

“They’re not mad?” Bucky asks. “About the Winter Soldier?”

“The only thing they were mad about,” Daddy says, “is that we didn’t tell them right away. Your sister Becca yelled at—at Santa on the phone for half an hour about it.”

The hug Bucky gives his daddy is the hardest hug he’s ever given in his life. He’s not sure it’s possible to hug any tighter. He’s crying a little, but nobody seems to mind.

After the presents, they have breakfast. Then Thor teaches Bucky and Tasha about the stars on Asgard and the people and animals their constellations are named after. Bruce reads to them from the new book of fairytales and Thor joins them on the couch. “I wish to know more of your Midgardian lore,” he says.

They have lunch around noon, with leftovers from last night and ham. After that, everybody gathers together for a big Bearvenger battle. The Captain Ameribear leads them all.

When it’s over, everybody ends up lying on the floor, worn out from all the adventure.

Tasha’s next to Bucky, using her black widow spider like a pillow. “This,” she says, “is the best Christmas ever.”

Bucky doesn’t remember every last Christmas in his life. Some of the ones from Brooklyn are still fuzzy. Most of the ones with his last daddy hurt. But it wasn’t the hurting that made those memories so sharp and raw in his head. It was the cookies and presents and hugs. The way Daddy would say _I love you_ , and how real and nice it felt.

But this feels so much nicer and now, staring up at the ceiling, Bucky realizes he hasn’t thought of his last daddy in hours. He realizes nothing about these presents hurts. Sitting here with his new family, he could forget. He did forget.

So he nods. It is the best Christmas ever.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations for the Latin are as follows:
> 
>  _et cum spiritu tuo_ = and with thy spirit  
>  _et incarnatus est de Spiritu Sancto_ = and was incarnate by the Holy Spirit  
>  _Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi custodiat animam tuam in vitam aeternam. Amen_ = May the Body of our Lord Jesus Christ preserve thy soul unto life everlasting. Amen.
> 
> Bucky's story about the girls getting coal instead of a doll was a real anecdote from my great-grandmother, only she and her sister got switches rather than coal.
> 
> Given Bucky and Natasha's backgrounds with surveillance and lack of privacy, I figured the idea of the Elf on the Shelf would be more disturbing than fun for them.
> 
> In the extraordinary form (Latin) Mass, communion is only given on the tongue rather than in the hand. This is done to reduce the risk of the Host being dropped, or not being consumed immediately and instead being profaned in some matter. In ordinary form (vernacular) Masses, the communicants can generally choose how to receive it. But in the Latin mass the option isn't available, hence why Bucky couldn't just extend his hand and avoid the possibility of traumatic memories.
> 
> Invisible banana French toast is one of my favorite things. It was first introduced to me by [Batman.](http://brandedinthe80s.com/6364/putting-the-banana-in-the-batman)
> 
> The color of light is [thought to affect sleep,](http://researchnews.osu.edu/archive/lightcolor.htm) with blue and white light being among the most disruptive, and red being among the least.
> 
> According to the Smithsonian memorial, Bucky is the oldest of four siblings. His sister Rebecca's name is taken from the comics. The other sisters' names, I made up.
> 
> Instructions for how to make all of the presents Bucky handcrafted can be found online: [Hot chocolate in a jar](http://lovegrowswild.com/2013/11/5-fun-mason-jar-gift-ideas/), a [coffee mug sleeve](http://www.mommypotamus.com/sock-coffee-mug-cozy-how-to/), [business card holders](http://www.parents.com/fun/arts-crafts/sewing/cozy-card-holder/), [hand warmers](http://trendswb.blogspot.com/2012/11/diy-hand-warmers.html), [sugar scrub](http://kidsactivitiesblog.com/13523/homemade-gifts-kids-can-make-sugar-scrub), [popsicle stick picture frames](http://eighteen25.blogspot.com/2013/07/popsicle-stick-frames.html?m=1), [bath bombs](http://www.redtedart.com/2013/09/11/bath-bombs-recipe-gifts-kids-can-make/), [cookies in a jar](http://www.foodnetwork.com/holidays-and-parties/articles/sealed-delivered-recipes-in-a-jar.html), and [dream pillows](http://gardenmama.typepad.com/my_weblog/2009/10/-scenting-our-dreams-a-tutorial-for-making-dream-pillows-.html).


End file.
